


Hat and Home

by RoseLaflesh



Category: Gloomverse (Webcomic)
Genre: Addiction, Candy Addiction, Gen, Hurt, No Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:55:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseLaflesh/pseuds/RoseLaflesh
Summary: Assistant isn't the first magician whose hat has been stolen. While Mooching Hobo could have lived his life content enough to never have his magic, he might just have sold his soul to get it. Regardless of how he got it, he's going to need all the power he can get. There's something bad coming, and the real question is, how much can they trust someone called The Dark Lord.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: I'm making this up as I go along. Bad things are probably going to happen, and it's going to be shocking for everyone.

Mooching Hobo understood the pain Assistant felt. He tried to keep everyone happy, so he never mentioned his past, but it was a past very similar to hers. He tried everything to forget, hoping that if he forgot the bad things, then only the good would be left. And if he tried hard enough, he could even forget his hunger and focus on how nice the day was.

It didn’t always work, mostly because hunger was one of those things that didn’t like being ignored. Meeting Harold was the first sunny day after years of rainstorms. Not only was he actually kind of nice to Hobo, but he came with candy. Candy always took away the bad. He could forget about everything, even his hunger, when there was candy. Admittedly, he might have become a little too dependent on sugar.

Still, it was more than just the sugar that made him follow Harold around. While they could barely be considered friends most of the time, Harold was the closest thing Hobo had. Harold didn’t talk about it much, but he knew what it felt like to not have magic. To have the entire world look down upon you for being full grown with no hat. Harold was one of the few people in the world who wasn’t mean to him, and that was reason enough.

One night, huddled around a small fire Hobo had built to keep away the cold, Harold came by to join him. His clothes were freshly washed again. Hobo never asked why Harold was on the streets when he had his magic and a fairly powerful family. It was an unspoken rule of the gutter to never ask how someone got there. There was never a happy story. Without having to be asked, Harold reached into his hat and offered a hand full of bonbons.

“Thanks, man,” Mooching Hobo snatched the candies before they could be taken away and filled his cheeks. While all candy was good, magically created candy made the world fade away like no other.

“How long as it been since you last ate?”

“Um, about a week? I think? It’s kinda hard to tell sometimes. Do you know when like that burger joint down on 6th st started sealing up its garbage? That’s about the last time I was able to get anything.”

Harold reached into his hat and pulled out more candy for Hobo.

“They were super angry when I tried to break into the garbage anyway,” Hobo laughed as he shoved candy into his mouth, “Saying I should go get a job and such. Isn’t that hilarious? So then I said," He swallowed down the candy, “wow, thanks for the offer. No one’s given me a job before, I’ll start right away, and that poor kid was so confused he had to get the manager. Then the police came and they gave me a nice place to sleep, and I almost got a sandwich out of the deal too, but the guy in the cell with me must have been hungrier since he just about swallowed that thing whole.”

“Yeah… Hobo?”

“What is it?”

“Why do you think it is that you don’t have a hat?”

“I don’t know,” He shrugged, “Maybe no one made it yet and it doesn't exist, or maybe I just overlooked it. It doesn't matter. It's not like they let me in the hat stores anymore.”

“Do you feel bad about not having it?”

“Yeah,” a rare bit of sadness melted onto Hobo’s face, “sometimes. Things would be a little bit easier, you know? I probably wouldn’t be anything amazing, but I mean, I’d at least be able to work at the burger joint or something. It’d be nice.” 

“If you could get your hat, but it meant selling your soul, would you do it?”

“Selling my soul to who?”

“The devil.”

Hobo paused to think. “Maybe, but probably not. I mean, if things are the way they are, then there’s no point in going to extremes to try and fix them. I find I’m much happier when I don’t think about those sorts of things. Why focus on the negative when there’s such a great world out there?”

Harold chuckled. “I wish I could be like you.”

Hobo patted him on the back. “You are, man. You’re the best ever. As I’ve said, you really need to lighten up and stop being so negative.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Mooching Hobo forgot about that moment for a while. It wasn’t until he heard Harold and Seaweed at the hospital, demanding to know why the Dark Lord had Assistant’s hat, that he began to think about what Harold said. Hobo would never consider himself to be the smartest man in the room, but it didn’t take much to put two and two together. He knew life was hard on his friend, but to think it was like this. Hobo did the only thing he could think of, he comforted his friend. 

Time passed, crazy things happened, and Hobo made sure he was there for everyone. There wasn’t much else he could do. Without magic, he could only be the side character, which was cool too. Things did get pretty dangerous for a bit, and while he felt bad that Harold and the others had to face it, Hobo was happy to help in the few ways he could.

Eventually, things calmed down and everyone settled back into their usual routine. Wallis performed his shows with Assistant. Harold now lived in Wallis’s house, and Hobo went back to the streets. Despite their insistence otherwise, he knew when he had overstayed his welcome. Besides, if there was one thing his parents ingrained in him, it was to never be selfish or take more than you need. He really didn’t need that big house when the streets provided. They were still his friends, so it’s not like the rest of his needs wouldn't be met anyway, if it really came down to it.

It felt good to be back. Even if it didn’t have a roof, Hobo was home again. Everything was exactly how he remembered it. Even some of the trash was unmoved, like smelly knick knacks. After a bit of searching, Hobo found a nice piece of cardboard and set up a bed to take a nice afternoon nap. 

As he stretched out to relax in the summer sun, he could feel a shadow hovering over him. The stranger stood against the sun, so Hobo couldn’t quite make out what he looked like beyond the fact that the stranger wore lots of black, which was a fairly common style choice among magicians.

“Hey there, bro, can I help you with anything?” Hobo asked.

“No,” The strangers voice was startling deep. It rumbled like a rocky echo. “But I believe there’s something I can help you with.”

“Aw, thanks for the offer, bro, but I’m fine.” Hobo tried to relax again, but curiosity itched at him. “But… uh… what do you got?” He hated accepting help, but he still wondered what this stranger had. No one offered to give anything they couldn’t spare, so he wouldn’t feel as bad accepting it, and it would be nice to not have to strain his friendships just to survive.

The stranger reached into his cape and pulled out a hat. It was a top hat, blue with yellow stars patterned into constellations, a pink band and rainbow lining. It looked a little rough around the edges, like it had been sat on a few too many times, but it was exactly how he always imagined his hat looking like.

“So, you’re going to magic me something from your hat?” Hobo asked.

The stranger chuckled. His voice sounded so off. Hobo figured it must have been some sort of magic altering the voice, but it still made him feel like this is not a person to talk to. “It’s not my hat. It’s yours, if you want it.”

Hobo looked at the hat and then to the stranger. He still couldn’t make him out between the brightness of the sun and the shadows eating up his features. He looked back to the hat. A deep down instinct told him that the stranger was telling the truth, but there was something very off about this entire arrangement. “How do you know it’s my hat?”

“Try it and see.” The stranger handed the hat over.

Hobo held the hat. Every part of him recognized it. It was his hat, his magic, but it seemed too good to be true. He couldn’t understand why this stranger had it. “How do you know it’s my hat?” Hobo asked again, this time angrier.

Catching onto the meaning of the question, the stranger said, “I suppose I’m just fixing up a few mistakes. You’ve been waiting the longest of all, and I’m so happy that I finally found you.”

Hobo stared down at the hat. His fingers itching to reach down and confirm what his spirit already knew. “You’re the one who took Assistant’s hat too, aren’t you. You’re the Dark Lord.”

“I suppose some call me that sometimes, but I’m really not as bad as Harold makes me out to be. I can make the world a better place. Worse things are coming, and I felt you’ll need your magic for when they do.”

“Don’t treat me like an idiot.” There was none of the usual joy in Hobo’s voice.

“Aren’t you happy to have your hat back?”

“Of course I am. I’ve wanted this my entire life, but I’ve gone through enough shit to know that people like you don’t offer things for free. I know what you do,” Hobo held out the hat to give it back, “And I’m not going to be a part of it.”

The stranger made a satisfied sound that expressed a smile Hobo couldn’t see. “Keep the hat. It’s yours anyway.” The stranger then melted into a pool of red and black that evaporated almost as quickly as it was made.

Hobo sighed and leaned against the wall, setting the hat on his lap. Nothing like the devil to remind him why he hated accepting favors. His fingers still itched to go inside, rubbing against the silk lining, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach in and grab his wand. When he was younger, before he had given up on ever finding it, he would have thought that getting his hat would be a dream come true. Now, his gut was telling him that grabbing his wand might be the start of a nightmare.


End file.
